O Stories

by Krauggel

Stories from ao3. I am just a lazy reader. I'm just using the audio.

4. Sydney Sweeney c1

Sydney Sweeney: Shota Starlet Slut

PegasusArt

Summary:

Young actress Sydney Sweeney is the hottest thing in Hollywood, but when she meets a strange 10-year-old boy at a glitzy afterparty, she begins to have feelings she can't explain, leading her down a depraved path of taboo lust and forbidden desire.

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

It was a fifteen minute limo ride from the Dolby Theater on Hollywood Boulevard to the L'Ermitage Hotel in Beverly Hills, where Vanity Fair held the super-exclusive Emmys afterparty. Sydney Sweeney spent most of that ride furiously texting her parents, her agent, and her fiancé, only taking breaks to complain to her publicist, Victoria, who shared the limo with her.

The young, blonde actress had just sat through the three-hour Emmys ceremony and come away empty-handed yet again — her third year straight with a nomination in the Supporting Actress category, and her third year without a trophy. But she did receive one dubious distinction — not one but two separate presenters during the telecast made lascivious jokes referencing Sydney's breasts.

It was something she'd come to accept, of course — the 25-year-old starlet was known for roles as promiscuous young women and had appeared in a number of topless and explicit sex scenes in her short career. Pictures and GIFs of her large, perfect, natural breasts in various states of undress were plastered all over the internet. That wasn't always a bad thing — Sydney's bust had given her a kind of stardom many would kill for, and she enjoyed the dark thrill of knowing she was a fantasy to millions of men across the planet… But on nights like this, when it would be nice to receive recognition for her acting, jokes about her body made her feel insecure, inadequate, and frustrated.

She'd laughed it off for the cameras but now she had to text her parents back in Washington about what to tell their friends and extended family about their daughter's… notoriety. She also had to soothe her fiancé Jonathan's nerves as well. Jonathan worked in Chicago and she hadn't seen him in weeks, and she knew he took the jokes personally on her account. It was sweet of him, but she found it a little grating as well. It was fine to be protective, but sometimes it felt… possessive, and she didn't like that.

"It's all over Twitter, of course," she murmured, switching between apps as her phone buzzed, announcing another novella-length tweet from Jonathan.

"Syd, I wouldn't let it bother you," Victoria said earnestly. "People love you. They were just jokes to fill up airtime."

Sydney eyed up the older woman. Victoria was a prim, thin woman in her late forties, her skin tanned and taut on a gaunt frame. Pretty, but not showy about it in her sleek black dress. She cut a contrasting figure with the younger Sydney, who was fresh-faced, curvaceous, with pale skin, and blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun. The starlet wore a baby blue ball gown that matched her eyes and hugged her tight hips. Her fulsome EE-cup breasts were pushed up and cradled snugly in the bodice, creating a fantastic cleavage, two creamy hemispheres of milky flesh displayed blatantly. A little too blatantly, Sydney now thought, adjusting her expensive gown irritably, trying to inch it upwards.

"I've seen this before, you know," Victoria intoned. "You should enjoy it while it lasts, is all I'm saying. You won't always be so young. So…"

"Hot?" Sydney retorted, her full pink lips pulling back in a sneer.

The limo came to a slow stop at the curb. Outside, a red carpet ran past rows of jockeying photographers toward a garden walled off by high hedges. The sun was going down, and popping flashbulbs lit up the entryway with a strobing intensity. Sydney took a breath to steady herself, and opened the limousine door.

———

The party took place on a football-field-sized expansive terrace behind the hotel. Around a central fountain and lawn, there were private cabanas, and a half-dozen wooden patios. One was marked off for VIPs. Several densely packed bars dotted the perimeter, and an army of caterers sauntered around, balancing trays of canapés and champagne flutes. Strings of vintage lightbulbs zig-zagged overhead, casting everything in a warm, comfy glow.

As the two newcomers moved toward the bar, Sydney spared a glance toward the VIP section. It was full of big names — Brad Pitt, Leo DiCaprio, Jordan Peele — and Sydney spotted Margot Robbie sitting on one of the back benches, laughing and talking excitedly to… some kid Sydney didn't recognize. He was young — too young to be here, was her first thought — with a wave of lanky, auburn hair masking his eyes. His cherubic face was flushed and he smiled easily as he talked to the gorgeous actress beside him. He was dressed in a simple button-down shirt and khakis, and his legs swung back and forth over the side of the bench, feet not touching the ground. Margot laughed at something he'd said, and placed a hand on his thigh in a friendly show of affection.

Syd paused. Who was that kid? Some producer's son, probably. She wracked her brain but he didn't seem familiar. One of Margot's friends' kids, maybe? A contest winner?

She lingered, trying not to stare at the curious sight of one of Hollywood's most beautiful stars gabbing with a… teenager? No, surely not. Younger. Maybe ten or eleven, she wagered. In that moment, the boy suddenly turned his head to look directly at Sydney. He swept his hair from his face and she met his eyes — cold, gray, and intelligent. A chill ran up her spine and she froze. Margot was still talking excitedly, but the boy was ignoring her, looking across the whole party, locking eyes with Sydney.

The young actress became aware that Victoria was pulling on her arm, saying something. Sound rushed back to her like she had surfaced from underwater, and she pulled herself away from the gaze of that curious young boy to join her friend in the drinks line. When she glanced back, she couldn't see him through the crowd.

———

Sydney made her way around the party making polite conversation with her fellow actors, producers, directors. Her publicist Victoria introduced her to a few writers who were in the process of pitching an HBO Max Original series that they thought Sydney would be "perfect" for. She smiled politely when they mentioned one of the "hilarious" jokes Ricky Gervais had made at her expense during the ceremony as well. Then, as quickly as possible, she moved on.

She was standing in line to order her third White Claw of the night when a little voice chirped from behind her.

"Hi, I'm Colter. What's your name?"

The actress turned with a bemused face, knowing who was there almost before she saw him. It was the boy from earlier, looking chipper and bright-faced. Up close he seemed somehow even smaller. Sydney was not a tall woman — maxing out at 5' 6" in her stiletto pumps — yet she towered over the diminutive boy at the back of the line behind her. His head crested right at the level of her bust, but his gaze was trained upwards, on her own heavy-lidded, mascara-lined eyes.

"Hi Colter," she smirked. "I'm Sydney. Pleased to meet you."

Sydney glanced around. She didn't see Margot anywhere — the boy seemed to be unaccompanied. She was going to turn back around, but hesitated for just a moment, on some base level, as if she knew instinctually that their interaction hadn't ended yet. There was an odd scent on the breeze, something musky and pungent, and she sniffed idly, trying to identify it. Something familiar…

The boy Colter took his opportunity and ventured forth another question, haltingly:

"So, uh, are you like, here for the party?"

After a quizzical moment, Sydney let out a laugh at the ridiculously basic question. There was something cute in the boy's earnestness, his desperate attempt to make small talk with her. She'd been in this situation with fans before. They could be socially awkward, at times. So after suppressing another peal of laughter, she smiled and nodded.

"Mm-hm," she replied. "I got invited because I was at the awards ceremony earlier."

"Oh, uh, me too," he said. "Are you… do you work in movies?"

Sydney was struck by this question — she had been confident the boy would know who she was already. Sure, he was a little too young to watch something like her show Euphoria, but kids could see a lot on the internet these days… His innocence left her taken aback, as she realized he had no idea who she was. She was just a girl he was talking to at a party. Something about that was refreshing. Who was this kid?

"Uh-huh," she said, nodding. "I'm an actress, I work in TV shows and movies. How about you? Are you an actor?"

"Ummm…" he stammered. "No, I'm not in the… I'm not an actor."

"You must know some thought, right? I saw you talking with an actress in the VIP section earlier," Sydney said, pushing the conversation forward. She glanced back to the bar — they were still near the back of the line, and it wasn't moving quickly. There was that smell again… she sniffed idly, breathing it in, but still couldn't place it.

"Oh yeah, that's Margot," he said matter-of-factly. "She's my girlfriend."

Unbidden, a cold chill ran through Sydney's body as the boy said this. He was dead calm and confident, his face betraying no emotion. Sydney chuckled nervously. Boys this age were so naive, so easy to read. Little Colter surely had a crush on Margot (who wouldn't?) but that didn't explain the true nature of his relationship with her or why he was even at this party at the first place. Sydney increasingly suspected Colter was the son of some big-shot studio executive or producer — he had the polished, easygoing look of a rich kid — but who would bring their underage kid to a party like this?

"You mean she's your friend," Sydney said after a moment of awkward silence, shaking strange feelings of discomfort from her head. "Did your parents introduce you to her?"

"No, I mean she's my girlfriend," Colter repeated, with the slightly indignant pout of a boy his age. "I'm her date… she brought me."

"Uh… huh," Sydney murmured, peering around to try to spot Margot again. She was nowhere to be found. Sydney was looking for Victoria as well, or anyone she recognized really — anyone to get her out of this increasingly weird conversation. "Well, that's nice. Is she a… good girlfriend, Colter?"

"Yeah!" he said excitedly, nodding. "She's real hot. Hotter than my last girlfriend for sure. She's blonde like you, but your boobies are bigger."

Sydney fought the immediate instinctual urge to reach out and slap this little boy in the face. Innocent chit-chat was one thing, but she didn't like being sized up by some little pre-teen punk half her age. For the hundredth time, she regretted the low-cut and revealing bodice of her baby blue ball gown. She felt less like a Hollywood starlet and more like a girl in a cheap Halloween costume… Slutty Cinderella, or something demeaning like that. Self-consciously, she turned half-away from Colter, shielding her breasts from his gaze and looking down at him with disappointment.

"Well, I don't think Margot would like you talking to other girls like that, if she is your girlfriend," she spat.

"Oh, she doesn't mind," he said with the same cool assurance, brazenly leaning to take another peek at her massive bust in profile, the creamy slopes of her breasts leading up to her graceful neckline and her beautiful, distinctive face, framed by loose strands of shimmering blonde hair.

"Well, I mind," Sydney retorted. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

She stepped out of the line and made a beeline across the vast terrace toward one of the other bar stations. Behind her, Colter stood casually with his hands in his pockets, watching her go.

"Sure, sure," he said. "See you around, Sydney."

———

While standing in another painfully long drink line, Sydney turned over the details of the disturbing conversation she'd just had. Even before Colter's lewd comments, she realized there had been something unsettling about him. She had noticed him from across the terrace from the moment she walked through the arched entrance to the afterparty. Of all the people there, her eyes had been drawn straight to him… and he had seen her as well. She understood that now. That's why he had followed her and engaged her in conversation in the drinks line.

That behavior was innocent on its face… but it felt oddly wrong for a boy his age to act that way. Colter didn't look like he'd even started puberty yet, but he had acted independently to seek out Sydney and chat her up. It was strange.

And then there was the matter of his claiming Margot Robbie, one of the most beautiful actresses in Hollywood, as his girlfriend. Again, something you might expect from a naive young boy… but something about it felt off. He had meant it. And from the way he talked about Sydney's body, he was clearly a bit more mature than his looks would suggest.

All at once, something clicked in Sydney's brain. She remembered hearing a story on the news, weeks or months before, some off-handed report about a phenomenon researchers were observing in young boys… pre-pubescent boys around the globe. What the hell was it called?

She took her phone out and ignored the dozen or so texts from her fiancé Jonathan, instead opening Google and starting a series of searches until she found what she was looking for. The memory clicked into place and she felt that cold chill run through her again as she looked down at the screen and read the headline:

Reports of "hung shotas" in more than 15 countries baffle scientists

Sydney gasped. Shotas. That was the word, lodged in the back of her brain like a splinter. Hung shotas. She read on, and the article described the curious medical cases of young boys from around the world that had only been properly documented in the past year or so. What had started as vile rumors and gossip were now increasingly common, and apparently officially confirmed in countries from India, China and Japan to France and the UK.

Details differed from case to case but there were a number of recurring themes. The boys described in the article were young, almost always pre-pubescent, usually around the age of ten but some even younger. They shouldn't have been sexually active but the story said they usually developed fully mature sex organs and exhibited a hyperactive sex drive, like some sort of super-charged, early-onset puberty. In most cases the boys were said to possess grossly oversized genitalia (hence "hung shotas") and displayed symptoms of hyperspermia — swollen testicles and a massive increase in production of semen, which led them to seek release multiple times per day.

The story became even more lurid the more Sydney read, as the secondary effects of the boys' strange condition became clear. Even though it was illegal, immoral, and unspeakable… In almost every documented case of a hung shota, the boy had found a willing sex partner and engaged in regular intercourse. In most cases, the partner was an older woman — a teacher, a babysitter, even a family member like a sister or (in a disturbingly high percentage of cases) the boy's own mother.

And it didn't stop there. Hung shotas were known to have voracious sexual appetites, and routinely sought out multiple sexual partners to indulge their desires. And by all accounts, they found it easy to do so, attracting and conquering women and girls with ridiculous ease. Scientists were still studying the phenomenon but it was believed the shotas exuded powerful pheromones, making them biologically irresistible.

No one knew yet the cause of the emergence of this subset of "hung shotas," but theories were rampant — cloning, genetic modification, government-mandated vaccines, water fluoridation, chemtrails… Some scientists believed they had emerged naturally and merely represented the next step in human evolution. Sydney scrolled past the conspiracy chatter, wanting more details about the boys themselves.

One thing that was clear: hung shotas were incredibly fertile, demonstrating behavior that led some researchers to dub them "super breeders." The pattern was the same in case after case — the shota would secure a mate or mates and begin forming a sort of harem, all of whom were soon pregnant. The accounts were incredibly detailed, and Sydney realized there was more information about this phenomenon than she had ever imagined. There was even an emerging genre of pornography known as shotacon (she resisted the temptation to Google that term).

At the bottom of the page was a list of related links. The FBI had uncovered one of these harems on the campus of the University of Texas – dozens of sorority girls had been involved in a sex cult centered around a 9-year-old boy. Romanian police had apprehended a group of women and charged them with human trafficking as part of a larger European shota ring. Another such ring had been exposed in Las Vegas, where a single fifth-grader now allegedly controlled a majority of strip clubs and private escort services in the state of Nevada. The son of a billionaire in South Korea was said to have a harem numbering in the thousands. The Miss Universe pageant in Paris had been canceled after every single contestant disappeared without a trace. And…

Sydney almost dropped her phone as she read the last headline, from just days prior: Actress Margot Robbie had reportedly separated from her husband, amid swirling rumors that she was dating a "much younger man." Sydney brought a hand to her face in horror, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed her. She quickly shut off her phone and stashed it back in her handbag.

The blonde beauty decided she needed to leave, now. She looked around desperately but could not find Victoria. Luckily she didn't spot Colter anywhere either. Realizing his true nature made her sick to her stomach and she nearly retched right then and there. She stepped out of the drinks line and began striding toward the exit, as fast as she could on her teetering stiletto heels.

Abruptly, one of those heels gave out and Sydney nearly collapsed, catching herself at the last moment. Several onlookers rushed forward to help her but she smiled tartly, standing straight and waving them off, face flushing deep red. Cautiously, she side-stepped toward the perimeter of the terrace, behind a row of canvas cabanas, where she could exit the party without anyone noticing.

As she rounded the corner of the tent and found herself in a narrow, shaded path of pavement between the canvas tent and the looming hedge wall lining the terrace, Sydney froze. Ahead of her, halfway concealed in the dim lighting, stood Colter. His slight, boyish frame looked smaller than ever, even as his shadow stretched out before him, seeming almost to reach toward Sydney as she stood stock-still, petrified. The undeniable adrenaline surge of fight-or-flight instinct coursed through her and a bead of sweat blossomed on her blushing cheek. Her eyes were wide, her pink lips trembling. Not yet out of sight of the party, Sydney stood at the precipice of the shadows behind the cabana. No one else could see Colter but her. And if she took one more step forward, one more step toward him… no one would be able to see her, either.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked with a smirk, his eyes hidden behind the lanky fringe of rust-colored hair hanging over his brow. The innocent, childlike demeanor was gone now, replaced with something more mature, more self-assured. Sydney dimly realized his sweet, boyish tone had been a mask, which he was now setting aside. Her eyes darted down, just once, to his khaki pants, and her mind reeled with the thoughts of what might be concealed, lurking within those confines.

"I… I know what you are," Sydney said meekly, barely audible above the din of the party. The other guests felt so distant now… Only one sheet of canvas separated them from her, but they might as well have been miles away.

"Say it," Colter replied simply. "Let me hear you say it."

A dark thrill raced through Sydney's body as she was commanded by a boy less than half her age. She saw in him the cool, casual, sociopathic behavior of a spoiled child, a brat used to getting his way. She looked back again, to those distant partygoers… then back to Colter.

"S-shota," she breathed, almost a whisper. "You're a shota, aren't you?"

He only smiled. Sydney shivered, her question hanging in the night air between them.

"I told you Margot was my girlfriend," he said at last. "She's still new, but I like her. She's real hot, and we have a lot of fun."

"Colter…" Sydney started, before realizing she didn't have anything else to say. She couldn't form the words of protest she needed to detach herself from this bizarre encounter, to break free and run, to escape, even though she knew she had to… before it was too late.

"Do you wanna have fun with me, Sydney?" he asked, that boyish lilt returning to his voice as he grinned widely. "I really like you, too."

"Oh, God," the young actress moaned in horror at the unspeakable perversion implied in the innocent question this boy had just posed. "No… No… I don't want… I don't…."

"Don't worry, Margot won't mind," Colter said. "She knows I've got lots of girlfriends. Lots and lots… I lost count how many."

Sydney's eyes were wide, unblinking, shimmering in the dim incandescent light. She glanced back toward the party again. No one was watching her. No one saw her standing here, rooted in this spot, unable to move her legs, unable to simply flee. She was nauseous as she heard the boy spell out his disgusting, perverse nature… but found she was fascinated too. It was as if some monster had stepped right out of a fantasy story… as if aliens had landed right in front of her and only Sydney could see them. It made her feel special, on some deep, shameful level… because she knew exactly what Colter wanted from her.

"Mommy was my first girlfriend," Colter said, stepping toward her. "She saw what was happening to me.. down there. She tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away… And then one day… I just took her."

Sydney moaned, long and low, at this sickening revelation. It was a vacant, empty sound, like a wounded animal's dying gasp. The boy was dangerously close to her now, a little over arm's length from her quivering, paralyzed form. He held out a hand. This close to her, he looked laughably small, innocent, harmless. She took his hand and he pulled her into the shadows behind the canvas cabana.

All at once he engulfed her, jerking her voluptuous body toward his slight little frame with a strength that belied his size. Before she knew it, his boyish face was in her cleavage, sinking into the pillowy flesh of her bosom like an exhausted man collapsing into bed after a day of hard labor. She gasped and instinctively tried to pull back but he held her there, thin arms creeping around her waist. His head was at the perfect level to maul her breasts and he did just that, swiping his face back and forth across the two mountainous mounds, enjoying the softness of her creamy, yielding titflesh, the silky feeling of her ball gown against his cheeks.

Sydney chewed her fat pink lower lip nervously, looking down stunned as the boy began to nip, bite and lick the exposed hemispheres of her cleavage. He groaned to himself and she heard herself echoing him with a meek, strangled moan that came from somewhere deep and shameful within her.

His hands came up and began to grope her through the gown's bodice, squeezing and kneading her bounteous breasts, and she trembled. There was nothing respectful or loving in the way he was feeling her up — it was a display of savage lust and she let it happen, let herself be used… used for the sick pleasure of a boy half her age, a freak, a hung shota super breeder with only one thing on his mind. After all the pouting and fuming about that night's jokes at the expense of her bustline, she felt Colter reducing her to parts, objectifying her, consuming her. She was nothing to him in that moment but a set of tits… and it felt wonderfully freeing.

Before she knew what he was doing, his tiny, insistent fingers had crept under the neckline of her gown, and he was pulling the cups down. Flesh billowed out over the descending garment in an avalanche of pure white titmeat as he yanked the gown brusquely down to her waist. Fully exposed, her pert, perfect titties seemed to swell and expand in the evening air, bouncing out with an impressive weight and jiggling before his hungry eyes. Huge, teardrop-shaped, perfectly formed and proportioned, with saucer-sized pink areolas and puffy, fat nipples that protruded with evident arousal. The moment of appreciation lasted only a moment before he pounced on them again, devouring one massive mound, sucking in as much soft, downy titflesh into his mouth as he could.

"No," Sydney said quietly, registering a pathetic and meager objection. Perfunctory, meaningless, gone as soon as the word passed her lips.

Colter sucked and slurped rudely, nursing on her, looking up into her eyes as he enjoyed the hardness of her nipple. She felt his tongue dancing over it, flicking it, lapping at it… and she melted in pleasure, tilting her head back and stifling a deep, wanton moan by biting her knuckle, hard. She couldn't risk someone hearing… This had already gone too far, insanely far, and the risk was all too great. Someone could stroll around the corner at any moment, looking for a bathroom… A photographer could be perched somewhere out of sight with a telephoto lens, documenting all of this… All it would take was one camera phone video, one snapshot, and she was finished. Her career would be ruined. Oh God, what was she doing?!

The boy spat out one heavy tit, watching it jostle and bounce, coated in a sheen of his saliva, before he sank his face into the other one, smiling widely and humming in pleasure as he squashed it against her sternum. His small face disappeared entirely into the bulging mass of titflesh and Sydney whimpered, thrusting her chest out, presenting herself for his free use. She had wanted to escape at first, to avoid this, but once Colter got his hands on her, she'd barely put up a struggle. It was so wrong, but she reveled in the unspeakable taboo of it all. The childlike wonder and joy in the way he devoured her felt so pure, so right… This was more excited, more aroused, than she had been with her fiancé in years.

Looking down at him, Sydney saw the boy suckling with abandon at her breast, looking so much like an infant nursing on its mother. Two thoughts crossed her mind simultaneously — that Colter, a young child, was only a few years removed from breastfeeding from his own mother… and that by own his own admission, he had fucked that mother, transforming his maternal figure into a whore, a slut, as so many hung shota boys apparently did. This perverse realization sent a rippling tingle through Sydney's body, a thrill that made her nipples ache with arousal and centered in her pussy, which she felt moistening, throbbing with arousal.

Colter dragged his tongue over the milky white surface of her tit, around the edge of her blush-pink areola, over the nubbin of her swollen, lewdly protruding nipple. His hands came up to cup each massive mammary, heaps of flesh spilling over his little fingers as he gripped her. Sydney mewled weakly as he groped her shamelessly, kneading and pulling the pliant titflesh. He pawed her, squeezing and contorting her naked breasts, pancaking them together, then watching them bounce back to their perfect natural shape…. His fingers pinched her nipples and she barely contained a squeal… which only incited him to tweak them harder. He jiggled her titties, making them bounce wildly, then squeezed them together, forming a wall of cleavage, and buried his head between them once again, nipping and licking ravenously, biting into the mounds of soft flesh that piled upon his face, drowning him. His moans of appreciation were muffled by her two oversized, all-natural tits, and he pulled her close, hugging her tight as he happily feasted.

"Ooouhh, baby," she whispered. "My titties… Fuck they're so sensitive…"

Sydney had been totally and completely dominated by this young boy, too lost to the sensations to consider her pathetic capitulation to a child half her age and half her size. The sight was perverse, absurd… a short, unremarkable ten-year-old boy mauling the famous tits of a hot young actress, the jerk-off fantasy to a million men around the world being molested by a wimpy-looking pre-teen punk. His hands crept around her body to find her tight, firm ass, squeezing hard through the silky material of her ball gown. She felt him grinding his crotch against her thigh as he lost himself in her cleavage, hips bucking against her again and again in an unrestrained show of arousal, and somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind, Sydney thought it was cute, like a puppy humping a couch leg. Harmless… until she began to feel the growing hardness within his pants, the unmistakeable swelling of a cock… iron-hard, like a girder, like a gun barrel. It felt like someone driving their elbow into her thigh, an unbelievable, constant, insistent pressure.

"Ohhh god," she croaked, realizing he was going to fuck her, right then and there… That there was no way out now for her. Somewhere deep inside she cursed her own foolishness, her weakness that allowed her to fall prey to this pre-pubescent predator. She never could have imagined… never could have dreamed…

Vrrrrt vrrrrt.

From somewhere far away, she heard and felt the familiar vibration of her phone. Dimly she realized she was still holding her handbag, with the phone inside. Someone was texting her. Colter, too lost to the buffet of all-you-can-eat titflesh before him, hadn't noticed… Sydney opened the bag and tilted the phone out into her hand. On the screen, a text from her publicist, Victoria:

Where are you girl? Might head out.

Sydney's eyes focused and the reality of the world snapped back into place, the haze of fucklust clearing just long enough for her to push the small boy away from her. He looked up at her like a wild animal as she cowered backwards, desperately trying to pull her dress back up over her naked, jiggling titties.

"This can't… I can't…. I have to go," she said dumbly, barely able to form words.

"'m not done," he said menacingly, advancing. Without a second thought, she turned and staggered back out toward the party. Like a vampire, Colter stuck to the shadows behind the cabana and watched her go, the young starlet's breasts barely contained within the stretched fabric of her bodice, her face flushed and slick with sweat, eyes crazed and wild. She disappeared into the crowd, a few partygoers sparing her a curious glance as she passed, but not much more. Sydney was texting her publicist to wait for her as she headed for the exit, the archway leading out past the hedges wall, to the limousine, to safety, to home.

———

Sydney awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her plush bed. The lingering feeling of dread from a terrifying nightmare saturated her, even as the details of the dream faded from her mind. She sat, panting, catching her breath, looking around her expansive bedroom. Sunlight beamed in from all directions, the warm light of mid-morning. She had bought this house in Westwood, a suburb of Los Angeles near the UCLA campus, and she was still getting used to it, but she breathed a sigh of relief to find herself in familiar surroundings.

Looking down she realized she was still dressed in the baby blue ball gown from last night. She must have passed out as soon as she got home. Her head thudded with the beginning of a hangover and she winced in the sunlight. Last night… What had happened at the party? What…?

"Oh, fuck," she said out loud, remembering everything in a rush. Her chance meeting with the boy, Colter. The shady path behind the cabanas. The hedges. His hands on her, his mouth, his tongue… Her naked breasts, spilling out into the night air…

Had it all been a nightmare? Was this the terrible dream that had shocked her awake? It was too terrible to contemplate, to absurd to have been real. Shotas? Hung little boys lusting after grown women? It all sounded made up, and it felt like it had happened a hundred years ago… not just the night before, at a glitzy Hollywood afterparty.

Sitting amid the billowing folds of her extravagant gown, Sydney looked over and saw her phone sitting beside her handbag on the nightstand. She crawled over and retrieved it. The lock screen was an endless list of missed texts and calls, from her parents, from Jonathan, from Victoria… and one number she didn't recognize.

Opening the phone, the actress' heart sank in her chest as she saw the last web page she'd had open the night before — the news article about the hung shota phenomenon. The link to a related story about Margot Robbie leaving her husband. So it was real. It was true. And it had happened.

Her next thought turned her blood to ice water in her veins: if it had all really happened, if she had been felt up and molested at an afterparty by an underage boy — had anyone seen her? Had anyone reported it? Were there photos? Was her career already over, before she even knew it?

She checked the texts from her parents, her publicists, her fiancé. Nothing, no mention of the previous night's taboo tryst with the boy, Colter. Just a few messages checking in, seeing if she got home safe. No one knew. And lastly… she scrolled to the text from the unknown number. An area code she didn't recognize. Probably a scam text? She opened it and read:

Hey Syd. Last night was fun. Sorry you had to leave

She sat, staring at it, blinking. Vague enough to be harmless, nothing lurid or suggestive. It might be him… or it might not. She swiped left on the message to delete it, the red X popping up, her thumb hovering over it…

Curiosity got the better off her. She swiped the red X away and opened the text again, thought for a moment, then replied:

Who is this?

She tossed her phone into the downy folds of her comforter and slid toward the edge of the bed, preparing to rise and start the day. She should hit the gym, work off some of those calories from the canapés last night…

Vrrt vrrt. She heard the phone buzz beside her on the bed. Instantly her hand darted out and snatched it up so she could read the reply:

U know

A chill ran down her spine. Furiously, she typed:

How did you get this number?

A few moments later came his reply:

What r u up to?

She seethed with a momentary flash of anger, then typed a response:

Blocking this number. Leave me alone you sick little fuck, or I'll call the police!

She tossed the phone back onto the bed and stood, walking toward the bathroom as she began unzipping her dress.

———

Sydney's new house was about a mile from an Equinox, so after a hot shower she squeezed into her workout gear – a pair of all-white yoga pants and matching sports bra that compressed her fulsome, EE-cup breasts into a fantastic cleavage. She put her long blonde hair into a ponytail, grabbed her water bottle and phone, and drove over to the gym.

On the way she checked her texts and saw that she had an unread message from her fanboy shota stalker, but she didn't open it. She didn't block his number like she said she would, but told herself she would do that later. She still hadn't replied to the litany of overnight texts from Jonathan.

She warmed up with fifteen minutes of cardio, jogging on a treadmill while trying to focus on one of the daytime soap operas playing on the TV in front of her. But her eyes kept flickering down to her phone, to the unread text she knew was waiting for her there. She should just delete it and block the number… but something kept her from doing it. As she jogged in place with long, graceful strides, her bountiful tits bouncing up and down, up and down, the droning sound of the treadmill in her ears… Sydney could not find the willpower to delete the text.

After her cardio warmup, she strolled over to one of the many squat racks lining the gym floor. At this time of day, the gym was nearly empty, and the few other people there were aspiring models and actors like her, focused on fine-tuning their already perfectly toned bodies, inspecting themselves in the mirror, flexing, posing. No one noticed Sydney, and she savored the anonymity.

When she got to the squat rack and appraised her own appearance in the floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of her, she blushed briefly at noticing that her nipples were fully erect, poking through the thin material of her sports bra. Even the outlines of her areolae were faintly noticeable through the fabric, and her mind drifted back to how Colter had licked them, nipped them, nursed fromm them the night prior. She found herself in a dreamlike reverie for a moment, rocking back and forth slowly on her feet. The phone was heavy in her hand.

"Hey, you using that?"

Sydney was snapped out of her daydream by a skinny girl in blue Athlete gear, gesturing toward the squat rack in front of her. Sydney nodded dumbly and went about her work loading up the barbell with plates.

She made it through two reps before she re-racked the bar and went over to her phone to open the text from Colter. She had tried to focus on her body, on her form, as she slowly bent at the waist and squatted the weight, pushing her toned, firm ass out behind her, already taut from years of athletic training… but thinking about her body only made her remember how alive she had felt last night with Colter's hands on her, and against her better judgment she took a break to read her texts.

She immediately regretted her decision, as she realized she'd received a photo from her boy stalker of a huge, erect cock – a dick pic! It was shot from above, rising up like a monolith, clearly massive and engaged with arousal. Thick, protruding veins spiraled down its length, and the bulbous, helmet-shaped head was sheathed by a fleshy collar of foreskin. At the base were two huge, swollen balls… mostly hidden by the slab of cockmeat above them, but unmistakable and inhumanly large in their own right.

It was unlike any cock Sydney had ever seen or imagined before -- her first thought was that it was one of those gag gifts, a ridiculously oversized sex toy you might see in the window of a sex shop or at a bachelorette party. But the more she studied it – and she was studying it – she could see it was plainly real, protruding from the open jeans of the photographer, connected to his slim and hairless pelvis.

Sydney gasped and put her hand to her face, then looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was near enough to see what was on her phone. No… she was alone, for the moment. She felt nauseous, staring at the massive prick filling her screen. She glanced back at her reflection in the mirror, standing in the squat rack, her workout all but abandoned. After a tense moment she typed a response to Colter.

You're a fucking disgusting pervert. Fuck you. Stop texting me you sick little boy.

Satisfied, she leaned to put her phone down and continue the workout but her phone buzzed before she could set it aside. Perhaps a little too excitedly, she opened the texts back up to see his reply.

I was so hard for u last night…

u gave me serious blue balls lol

She swiped back up to re-open the dick pic and stared at it, mouth hanging slightly open. She looked at the balls in particular, two swollen and vein-riddled globes that did indeed have an almost bluish hue. She thought about the loads of semen churning and swirling within them, loads Colter had intended for her… How much did shotas cum? Each nut could surely store a lot of jism… each one had to be… at least the size of a baseball, from what she could tell, though that didn't seem possible. None of this was possible, of course… she was exchanging texts with a ten-year-old child, a stranger who had molested and nearly raped her the night before. Again she realized she could end this at any time, and again she decided not to.

She sent him a new text:

Good. You deserve it you little freak. I hope it hurts

She watched the little thought bubble icon pop up, indicating Colter was typing. She held her breath, caught momentarily in the excitement of sharing a conversation with her tormentor. A moment later, his response:

Oh I took it out on Margot, trust me. Almost drowned her I came so fuckin much lmao

She shivered at the thought, the unavoidable mental image of the beautiful older actress choking and gagging on load after load of thick, white boy cum. Her body ravaged, her throat ransacked, her eyes rolling back as she lost consciousness… Sydney felt something uncomfortably close to jealousy for Margot Robbie, who had abandoned her husband, her whole life, to become a fucktoy for a pre-teen boy. She shook these debauched thoughts from her head and responded:

You're fucking pathetic. Stop this please

A momentary pause, then:

Don't worry Syd, I saved some for you.

With that, another shot of that massive prick filled her screen. This time his hand was gripping it, holding that swelling, turgid cock near the base. Sydney stifled a gasp as she saw how his hand was dwarfed by the incredible scale of the erection – his fingers couldn't even fully encircle its girth! It was tilting up slightly, toward the camera, that big menacing cockhead staring her directly in the face, oozing pre-cum that ran down in rivulets over the thin, boyish fingers gripping the shaft below. Sydney stared at it for a long moment, lips parted in shock, before furiously tapping out a reply:

I don't care! I don't want it!

You're a little boy!

This is wrong!

Nothing for a long while, then:

Take a selfie. i want to see u

Her jaw dropped. The audacity of this little shit…! She was breathing hard, growing more and more flustered. Again she looked around, checking to make sure no one was paying attention to her. Disgusted, she shut her phone off and threw it to the floor.

Sydney got back under the rack and started another set, trying to calm her mind by immersing herself in the exercise, the slow, deliberate, repeated motions. Down, and back up. Down, and back up. She tensed and fired her glutes, squeezing her buttocks taut as she fully extended, feeling the burn in her quads and hamstrings. Sweat ran down her face, dripping off her nose, trickling down into the valley of her cleavage. Checking her look in the mirror, she saw her nipples were still fully engorged. Sweat dampened the front of her sports bra… but she also saw a spot of wetness at the juncture between her legs, an unusual but unmistakable sight. It was not sweat.

She nearly dropped the bar getting it back onto the rack and stepped away, momentarily depleted, breathing in deep, whooping gasps. She'd done two sets since her last text from Colter, and she hand't been able to stop thinking about him once, try as she might. As she was looking back down at her phone, it seemed to read her mind as the screen lit up and it shuddered on the floor, a vibration announcing a new incoming text. She bent down and retrieved it, opening her texts automatically.

It was another dick pic, of course, and she felt an undeniable thrill as she drank in the details of the new image. The hand was higher up this time, resting just below the cockhead, obviously squeezing hard as more gouts of thick, lumpy cum dribbled down, coating the shaft. Right below the photo, another message came through:

My cock is so fucking hard for u Syd

Show me a photo so I can cum

She bit her lip for a moment, then replied:

You little shit

If I do, will you stop texting me and just leave me alone?

A long, thoughtful pause, then:

Sure

Sydney's heart thundered in her chest. She looked around the room. No one knew the intense drama playing out in her text messages. Against her better judgment, she brought the phone up and opened the camera. She aimed it at the mirror and posed, turning slightly so she could see the bulging curve of her ass as well as her heavy tits, constrained within the sweat-dappled sports bra. She made a kissy face, her heavy-lidded eyes trained on the phone screen as she snapped the pic. She reviewed it briefly, then hit Send.

She found herself standing there, waiting for his reply, and after more than a minute she finally snapped out of it and stepped away from the squat rack. The girl in blue was glowering at her from across the gym — she had clearly seen Sydney spend most of her time on the rack texting and taking selfies. Whatever.

Sydney stepped over to the dumbbells, feeling a little dejected as her phone — tucked in the front of her yoga pants — refused to buzz. No response from Colter. She didn't want to admit how disappointed that made her. Still, she knew he was somewhere, with his phone and his cock out, looking at a picture she had sent him, and jerking off. And that made her feel… hot.

She began to do bicep curls with five-pound weights, and she was on the eighth rep of her first set when she felt that familiar pulsing vibration. She dropped the dumbbells instantly and fished her phone out of her pants. She caught her breath – it was a video.

Same angle, same subject… but this time she was treated to a fifteen-second clip of that same small hand stroking that thick, glorious cock. She watched it in full, breathless, then clicked play to watch it again. When it had concluded, she pressed on the screen firmly to open the Options menu and saved the video to her photo library. It happened so fast, she didn't even really think about it. When she returned to the text chat, his message underneath read:

Can't stop lookin at ur photo

Ur so fuckin hot… I'm so close baby

Sydney tingled with excitement. What had started as unwarranted harassment had evolved into a sick game, and she felt herself being hopelessly drawn in. She could have put the phone down at any time, deleted the chat, blocked the number. Instead, she stared at the screen dumbly for a long time, thinking about what she should say next, her eyes glued to his cock. It still blew her away. Colter was only ten years old… he should have been in school, not trading pics with a grown woman. And she should know better, too!

But his massive cock — Holy fuck! It exceeded anything Sydney had ever imagined. The sight of that cock had singlehandedly rewritten the rules of reality, of what was possible, moral, or right. She stared at it, biting her lower lip, lost in thought, until she saw a drop of saliva land on the screen and found she was drooling.

Realizing she hadn't responded to his last text, she typed:

You're so fucking bad…

Did you cum yet?

She suffered through the silence that followed, idly swirling a lock of hair around one finger. Her eyes watched the screen intently, the three dots telling her he was typing. She was breathing hard, practically panting. When he phone buzzed and she saw his answer pop up, an involuntary moan escaped her lips.

Not yet

Send another selfie

I wanna see more of u

She hesitated. His instructions were clear, and she realized she was now happily ready to oblige his commands. A dark sexual thrill ran through her at the thought of putting herself on display for an underage boy. It was all so clearly wrong, to be playing this game, to be indulging him. It had gone too far — already the conversation was explicit enough that if anyone ever found out, it could ruin her. Worse, that meant it could be held over her head as blackmail. But in a way, that only deepened the thrill that she was now helplessly lost to.

She trained the camera on the mirrors in front of her again, this time arching her back and sticking her chest out proudly, holding one arm across her midsection in order to bunch her tits up and form a ridiculously deep cleavage. At the same time she wagged her tongue out, winked, and snapped the pic.

She sent it, along with a playful message:

Remember these?

His response came faster this time.

Fuck yeah I do.

I remember I made u squirm and moan when I sucked ur big titties

I remember you fuckin loved it

Grinning excitedly, she typed:

You sick little perv

Do I make your fucking cock hard?

You're disgusting

His answer came through a moment later:

Next time I won't go so easy on u

Gonna make u beg for it

Hold you down and fuck ur big fat tits with this hard dick

Sydney hissed with lust, collapsing onto one of the workout benches, eyes glued to her phone, typing furiously:

You talk big but you're just a lil baby boy

You're not man enough for me

His reply:

Look at my cock again and tell me I'm little.

It gets even bigger when I'm about to bust

She texted back:

Show me

He answered:

U first

Take ur top off and show me ur tits

Now

She barked a single, amused laugh and looked around. The gym was starting to fill up now… she couldn't take her bra off out in the open. Hurriedly, she strode over to the locker room, not bothering to reset her weights, eager to follow Colter's orders.

Once she was inside, she walked over to the bay of sinks and held her phone up again, capturing her reflection in the mirror. With her free hand she gripped the bottom of her sports bra and began to peel it upwards. It was not an easy task, the skintight and damp material clinging to her soft and malleable melons as she had to stretch it over the bulky girth of her bust…

Then all at once they were free, exploding out of her top and jouncing down wildly until they settled in place on her chest. Two huge, milky white breasts — round and perfect, big and plump, each capped with a puffy pink nipple. Entirely natural, still firm and pert with the ripeness of youth. They were a shade whiter than the rest of Sydney's sun-kissed complexion, making the candy pink nipples stand out all the more.

There was no one else in the locker room with her and Sydney decided right then to push the envelope even more. Wagging her tongue out again, she drooled heavily on herself, watching the rivulets of thick white spit oozing down her chin before descending lazily to her chest. She gathered her tits up again and squeezed them together, watching a bead of her own spit travel the length of the valley of cleavage she had formed. She snapped the pic, reviewed it, and sent it along with a teasing message:

Think you're man enough to handle these, little boy?

Moments later, his reply:

U know I am bitch

Can't wait to bust all over ur big boobies

Her eyes rolled back at the thought of hot, white cum splattering her chest. Her pulse was racing. Her pussy and nipples tingled, engorged with desire. What was happening to her? Her crotch was so hot it felt like steam would start rising from it. She rubbed her thighs together needily, wriggling like a bitch in heat. She texted him back:

Now ur turn

Show me that big dick

Prove it's really you

A moment later, a new photo came through, this time taken with Colter reaching down and holding the phone just under his massive, towering cock. Veins protruded angrily from the girth, and Sydney's eyes ran up and down its length — the bulging urethra, the cum-channel, the flared lip of the glans strangled by his thick, fleshy foreskin. In the background, blurry but instantly recognizable, was Colter's grinning, boyish face. She drank in the photo like life-giving water, studying every detail. The scale was mind-boggling. If this photo was real, and she felt instinctually that it was, then his cock had to be more than a foot long. Way more. She shuddered, her knees going weak, and she had to steady herself against the edge of the sink. He was texting her again:

Im gonna break u with this cock Sydney

Do u think u can take it?

Unable to resist any longer, Sydney slipped a hand into her skintight yoga pants and began to massage her naked pussy underneath. She stood, hunched, leaning against the sink, and ground her hips against her fingers, rubbing her clit madly. The feeling of depravity from the night before, when Colter's boyish fingers hand clutched and sunk deeply into her pliant titflesh, came washing back over her. It was wrong… It had been wrong last night, and it was wrong now. But it felt so, so right.

She was thrusting her tight, athletic hips impotently, whimpering and moaning, when she heard the door of the locker room opening. She was hidden from view behind a row of lockers and she took the opportunity to dart over toward one of the shower stalls. She stepped inside, still in her sneakers and yoga pants, and closed the frosted glass door behind her. Peeling her sports bra fully off, she tossed the sweat-moist garment over the top of the shower door and leaned against the cold tile wall of the stall, resuming her feverish finger-fucking.

Her phone buzzed again and she held it up to read the text while she was strumming her clit, but she felt her heart sink as she saw it was a message from her fiancé Jonathan:

Hey babe, haven't heard from u

Everything alright? 3

The actress rolled her eyes and swiped out of the conversation, back into her texts with Colter. She typed slowly, awkwardly, as she kept fingering herself:

Don't know what ur doing to me

I'm so fucking hot for u

This is so wrong

Her hips were bucking wildly, in the same unrestrained way Colter had humped her leg the night before, as she read his response:

U wanna fuck a little kid Sydney

Ur the sick one

Blushing and sweating, she tapped out her feverish reply:

God ur right

I'm so fucked up

The back-and-forth was moving faster now, heating up just as the panting actress rubbed her boiling pussy faster and deeper.

You fuckin pedo slut

I'll fuck the shit out of u and leave u begging for more

U can't handle this dick

Seething at the insult, the dirty talk, the sheer wrongness of it all, she replied:

You're just a bad little boy

Little bitch baby

Ur pathetic

She diddled her clit madly, seeking a perfect release that was just beyond her reach.

Stupid whore

I'm gonna make u my breeding bitch

Pump u full of cum and drown u in it

She moaned, long and low, sobbing through the pleasure, barely able to see the screen as she typed.

Fuck yeah

Gimme the thickest loads ur balls can make

I'll be ur shota slut

His words burned into her brain as she edged closer to climax, riding a crazy peak of ecstasy that threatened to consume her:

Ur already mine

She shuddered, drooling on herself, unable to formulate a response. She was close now, she knew. Her hips gyrated against her hand and she plunged first one, then two fingers deep into her hot, sopping wet cunt. She fucked herself furiously, moaning deeply, like the pedo whore she knew she was becoming. The next message to pop up on her screen was another video of that beautiful, beautiful cock.

"Fuck, it's so big," she said without thinking, tapping to play it. The hand was jacking swiftly, rubbing up and over the bulbous helmet-shaped cockhead again and again, smearing it with the near continuous discharge of milky, semi-clear pre-cum that bubbled forth from the slit. Finally she saw him grip it, tightly, with finality. The whole prick, already massive, seemed to swell, just as he had described, and then a pure white jet of cum erupted from the tip. It geysered into the air before quickly being brought down by its own obvious weight, splashing wetly to his belly below, just out of frame. More ropes followed, one after another, an almost continuous stream of pearly white spunk, arcing out erratically, uncontrollably. The video ended and Sydney dropped her phone to her side, neck craning back as she continued to masturbate furiously. That last bit was all she needed to cross the line…

"Excuse me, miss?" A stern voice suddenly interrupted Sydney's reverie and she snapped back to reality. There was the sound of knuckles rapping on the frosted glass shower door. "Miss? We need you to use the showers for their intended purpose, please."

Sydney stood stock-still, terrified, petrified, humiliated. Her face flushed a deep red and with some effort she withdrew her hand from the confines of her yoga pants.

"Uh… just a second," she said haltingly, and snatched her sports bra from its place hanging over the stall door. With some difficulty, she squeezed her massive tits back into the bra. Slipping her phone back into her pants, she opened the door.

"S-sorry," she said meekly, staring into the concerned face of one of the gym's female personal trainers. She stepped gingerly out of the shower, trying to avoid the older woman's withering gaze. Internally she fumed at being so close to release, and being denied.

"Ma'am, this kind of thing is against our Terms of Service here at Equinox," the trainer said. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, and if this happens again, your membership will be revoked."

"Uh, I understand," Sydney mumbled, shuffling over to her locker to get her gym bag and car keys. "I, uh… sorry."

It seemed every set of eyes in the place were on Sydney as she took the walk of shame up toward the front doors and exited the Equinox. She was able to hold back the tears until she was outside, but she burst out crying once she was in the privacy of her car, and she sobbed uncontrollably for nearly twenty minutes until she was finally calm enough to start the engine. With mascara still running down her cheeks, her face burning, eyes red, she drove home in silence.

———

Humiliated and sexually frustrated, Sydney tried texting Colter again when she got home but he didn't answer. Feeling dejected and pathetic to be texting a child and getting left on read, Sydney finally caved and texted Jonathan back.

Jonathan was a restauranteur in Chicago and was busy opening a new upscale bistro, but he had been worried when she hadn't texted him all last night or this morning. She put his fears to rest with carefully worded explanations — she'd had a bit to drink at the party, she ran into some friends, she slept in late, etc. Eliding the details of course, and the sickening fact that she'd been molested by a ten-year-old boy and almost fucked him on the spot… That after three years in a loving, healthy relationship, she'd been sexting all morning with a perverted, manipulative child… That she was fantasizing about giving herself to a freakish hung shota, becoming a kiddie-loving pedo fuckbitch for a little boy.

As she turned these thoughts over in her head, Sydney checked her GCal for the day. She had a photoshoot scheduled later that afternoon for her swimwear line, Frankies Bikinis. She briefly thought about canceling, but something about having a job to do inspired her to stop wallowing in pity and get up. It was also a keen reminder that she was a woman with a career of her own. It was absurd to think that she could risk that life, everything she'd achieved, for the sake of some vulgar little boy. Shotas may be increasingly common, but any relationship she engaged in with an underage boy would ruin her. End of story.

Encouraged by this thought, the mishap at the gym seemed to recede into a distant memory. She felt farther and farther away from the unhinged lust she'd succumbed to earlier that morning. And anyway, Colter wasn't texting her back. She was free to move on, and forget it.

Sydney watched the videos of him jerking off and cumming a couple more times, then she set about getting ready for her photoshoot.

———

Colter finally texted her back while she was driving to the studio in Silver Lake for the bikini shoot. It was a brief, innocuous message:

Sup

Sydney found herself annoyed. He had failed to text her back for going on three hours, completely ignoring her, then randomly restarted their conversation? She fought the urge to text him back immediately, smirking with smug satisfaction as she left him hanging. She lasted all of of 45 seconds before she found herself at a red light and snatched up the phone.

Driving to a shoot. Where have you been?

The three dots cycled endlessly as she waited for him to type a response. Finally, it came:

Oh cool. Can I come by? Wanna see u

She sizzled with irritation as he dodged her question.

No, you can't "come by." I'm working.

She paused for a second, then added:

I shouldn't even be talking to you anyway. This needs to stop. Don't text me again.

A car behind her honked and she realized she'd been sitting at a green light. Tossing down her phone, she drove on. She heard it buzz immediately of course, as he ignored her request to end the conversation. She pulled over into a CVS parking lot and stopped, leaving the engine running as she read his last message:

U wanna see me too

Don't lie to yourself

She rolled her eyes, thought for a moment, and replied:

No. This is wrong. You're not a grown-up, you wouldn't understand…

I have a job. I have a life.

I can't be your girlfriend or whatever.

There was a thoughtful moment while he formulated a response. She felt sick to her stomach reading it:

I don't think u understand actually

I have our whole conversation from earlier archived

I'll go to the tabloids if u won't see me

Her skin broke out in a cold sweat. Holy shit. He was blackmailing her. The little shit was blackmailing her! She was amazed at how he could turn on a dime — seeming one moment to be the lovelorn little kid with a crush, then swinging into pure sociopathic manipulation. She texted him back frantically:

You wouldn't dare

He replied:

Of course I would.

I won't get in trouble

But you'd be fucked

Then, after a moment:

What do you think Jonathan would say? Maybe I'll just send him some of ur pics

Tears streamed down her face as her heart thundered in her chest. She felt like her blood would boil and come shooting out her ears. The boy was pure, unspeakable evil, that much was clear. But she also knew that she had no one to blame but herself. She had sent him those photos willingly. She had engaged with him already, and she was in too deep. Desperately, she texted him:

How would you even get to the studio? You aren't old enough to drive

He replied:

I'd get an uber duh

She slumped in the carseat, defeated. The little boy who had overpowered her and violated her last night, who had toyed with her and thrilled her this morning… had now outsmarted her and checkmated her at last. She understood now why some scientists thought the shota boys were the next step in human evolution… Colter was only ten, but he was ruthless and cunning beyond his years… and that didn't even factor in his insanely huge horsecock. Sydney's whole life, her whole career, now rested on the whims of a fickle, sex-crazed little boy. Sydney thought of Margot, and realized this all might not end well for her.

She texted Colter the studio address.

———

Sydney's bikini line was a collab with Frankies, a designer brand focused on elevated and fashionable

swimwear. They wouldn't be shooting on a beach, but in a studio set made up to look like the interior of a southern plantation house — dusky, shadow-filled rooms, long velvet curtains, chaise lounges, recovered oak tabletops, gaudy crystal chandeliers.

Sydney herself would be modeling a series of two-piece bikinis — white lace, pink spandex, black silk frills — as well as some dresses and evening wear. She sat impatiently for hair and makeup, tapping her phone on her knee, waiting for the inevitable text from her sinister boy stalker, but it never came. Instead, toward the end of her styling, one of the photo assistants came up behind her and asked:

"Miss Sweeney? There's some kid outside, said he's your nephew. Should we let him in?"

Face sullen and anxious, Sydney did her best to act natural, nodding to the assistant in the mirror.

She changed into the first outfit — a white bikini patterned with cherry emojis — and headed toward the set. While the photographer and two producers talked to her about the concept of the shoot, the vibe, what poses they needed, etc, Sydney's eyes scanned the room until she found him.

Colter stood toward the back of the studio, near the craft services table, munching on a carrot stick. He was dressed in a gray t-shirt and jeans, and looked at once completely out of place and completely unbothered as dizzy technicians and set decorators whizzed around him preparing for the shoot. He winked at her as their eyes met, and her stomach did a flip.

"I said, are you ready to get going?" The photog was talking to her, and Sydney pretended she'd been listening and nodded, smiling pleasantly.

"Okay," he said. "Why don't we try some poses on the lounge chair there."

Sydney started posing, feeling stiff at awkward at first. Her eyes kept darting over to Colter, standing silently at the periphery of the set. He said nothing, didn't approach her… he simply watched. Soon she began to relax, and the young boy's presence became less of a hangup. In fact, she discovered he actually inspired her, as she found herself posing for him…

Crouching on all fours, jutting her ass up toward him… Kneeling, hands on her thighs, her arms pressing her fantastic breasts together as she flashed a sultry look toward the camera… Reclining on the lounge chair, legs spread, one finger tracing the line at the edge of her bikini…

The shoot was heating up, and people on set were noticing. Everyone's eyes were on her, even the women, watching her pose and unfold her gorgeous, nubile young body… none of them knowing she was doing it for the pleasure of a pre-teen boy, standing right there amongst them.

After a brief break, Sydney changed into a navy blue bikini with lace trim and a bow at the front between the cups — closer to lingerie than swimwear, really — and started posing on the floor this time, stretched out on a Persian rug in front of a yawning fireplace. She smoldered during the shoot, even making some of the assistants on set visibly uncomfortable. Stretching out on all fours, Sydney tossed her long wave of blonde hair over one shoulder and bit her lip, giving the camera a "come hither" look. She leaned against the fireplace, shoving her ass toward the camera, looking over her shoulder… pulled the bikini bottoms up til they were deep in the crack of her ass. The camera clicked furiously, the fat old photographer sweating and blinking as he got shot after shot.

"Shit, that's great Sydney," he murmured. "That's it… that's hot…Next up, want to try one of the negligees?"

It went on like that for more than an hour, Sydney doing her best to seduce the camera, posing more and more provocatively until she was topless, holding her hands over her nipples with a naughty look on her face as she knelt on a long, brass-framed bed. She was shameless, fully knowing that she was doing everything she could to flaunt her body in front of Colter, to make him want her. She didn't know what to expect — though she entertained the fantasy that he would step forward and fuck her right there and then in front of the entire crew — but he was restrained. He just stood in the back, by craft services, munching on carrot sticks.

By the end of the shoot, Sydney was exhausted and the crew gave her a round of applause as she stepped off set to go change back into street clothes. Only then, as she stepped into the privacy of her dressing room, did it finally happen.

He was waiting for her in the dressing room, a sweet and innocent-looking little kid. Slim body, cherubic face, a mop of auburn hair. He sat at the far end of the small changing area, on a cushioned bench. Sydney was dressed in the last outfit she had modeled — a lacy burgundy bikini, and black pumps. She had gold hoop earrings in, and a cross necklace glittered around her neck.

She shut the door quickly behind her as she saw him, eyes wide with instant panic.

"What are you doing in here?" she whispered hoarsely. "Someone could see you! Go outside… wait for me. I'll only be a second."

"No," he replied. "I've waited long enough, don't you think?"

Sydney's mind reeled. She had met this boy less than 24 hours ago, and he was already commanding her like he'd known her all her life. Worse, she found she had almost no will to resist him. She opened her mouth to protest, and words died in her throat. She wanted it too. He knew it. They both knew it. But this was… risky. There were still people in the studio tearing down the set, and the dressing room walls were thin. She locked the door.

She walked slowly towards him, advancing on the much smaller boy as he sat, relaxed, swinging his feet over the side of the bench. Tension was thick in the air, the anticipation of what was about to happen. Sydney realized she was about to throw everything away — her morals, her career, her relationship — for a little boy. To submit to something she couldn't begin to understand.

"I don't know what you think we're doing," she said shakily. "But this is just a one-time thing. I'm not going to be your… girlfriend."

"Okay," he smirked, shamelessly rubbing his hand over his crotch, groping a rising lump there that made her swallow with apprehension.

"I have a… fiancé," she murmured, averting her gaze as her cheeks flushed scarlet. "I love him… He's a good man."

She was getting closer now, and suddenly that familiar smell from the night before washed over her. Sickly sweet, musky… Thick and pungent. She couldn't quite place it. She watched him, appreciating the way his hungry eyes raked over her bikini-clad body… her heavy tits, her slim waist and flaring hips...She chewed her lip nervously, averting her gaze, truly aware of the age and size difference between them. She should be disturbed, she should be disgusted… but she was shamefully, feverishly aroused.

"This is insane," she mewled. "You're just a… little kid, for God's sake. I need to know… that you'll delete those texts. I'll do this for you… But you have to delete it all."

"Fine," he said, after a moment of thought. "If that's what you want."

Before her eyes, he started to unbutton his jeans and unzip his fly. It happened as if in slow motion. His pants were opening and he was reaching inside, fishing around in his cotton boxer briefs before pulling something out, a fleshy mass so large it seemed at first to be a third arm… something freakish and impossible. But no, it was his enormous, heavy penis, already half-erect and growing harder before her eyes. He let it hang between his legs, and it bobbed up and down rhythmically as it pulsed to life, growing larger all the time. Well over a foot long already, smooth but riddled with cordlike veins… with those two hairless testicles nestled just below it, each bigger than a grapefruit. She couldn't fathom how Colter had fit it all in his pants to begin with — even flaccid, it had to be a foot of solid meat!

Sydney's mouth hung open, her words having died away. All she could utter was a tiny, disbelieving gasp. Her blue eyes were wide, drinking in every detail of Colter's form. Her body felt hot, her stomach shuddering in nervous, boiling knots. How? How was it possible? The cocky, perky little brat really was hung like a stallion. On a grown man, a cock that size would be improbably massive. On a child of his size and stature, it was an absurd sight… but also terrifying, menacing, aimed at her like a loaded weapon, with clear intent.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she whispered.

Colter smiled at her, but she couldn't look him in the face. Her eyes were glued to that massive cock. The fat throbbing length, the thick, powerful veins… the dollop of pre-cum that was already leaking out. His piss slit winked and a drop of the pearly substance drooled out, catching on the lip of his fleshy, thick foreskin. Sydney felt a small, whining moan come from her own throat.

She could smell the musk of his cock… the fresh stench of it burning into her nostrils… and she realized that was the scent she had noticed at the party the night before. But this was stronger, concentrated, washing over her in a wave as if she had opened an oven door and peered inside. Her legs felt weak and she staggered as if she'd been slapped, then collapsed to her knees before him, bringing her to eye level with that cock. It stared into her like a serpent, craning up to meet her… the bulbous, helmet-shaped glans, deep purple at the tip, strangled by his foreskin. The vertical slit opened and shut like it was breathing, belching out translucent pearls of pre-cum that trickled down his length.

Colter's expression was one of amusement as he watched Sydney regarding him with something like religious awe. He gestured for her to come closer and she crawled meekly, like a worshipper on a pilgrimage, closing the gap between them at last.

"Margot said the same thing," he smiled. "Just this once. Just this one time. You're all the same."

Sydney felt a pang of shame at his words, but to be honest she wasn't listening too closely — she was still staring in honest shock at the size of his dick. She breathed in shallow, short gasps as she got closer and the smell became noxious, almost all-consuming, stinging her nostrils, leaving a tangy taste on her tongue already.

"You're so fucking bad," she said quietly. "Such a bad little boy…"

"Touch it," he said, brusquely, eyes fiery with desire.

As if drawn by magnets, Sydney's hands came up to lock around the base of that drooling monster cock staring her down. To her amazement, she found she couldn't fully encircle the mighty shaft with one hand; it was thicker around than a Coke can. With both hands spread around it girth, her fingertips still just barely met at the top of the hot slab of still-hardening meat. The veins pulsed hard against her fingers, as if an electrical current was surging through his member, the whole thing thrumming with obscene power.

"Ffffuck," Colter said, leaning his head back against the wall as he watched the beautiful actress Sydney Sweeney gently grasping his huge, throbbing cock. His hips bucked at her touch, a reflexive response. She slowly slid her grip up from the root to the fat, engorged knob, then drove back down until both her hands were around the base of his shaft again. He trembled and she could swear she heard a faint gurgling coming from his swollen nuts… no doubt a fresh batch of super-powered shota sperm inside, churning and fermenting, ready to blow.

The sense of triumph and consummation Colter felt from that first stroke made his cock throb and he grunted. With an audible spluuuuort, he spurted an involuntary jet of pre-cum that arced through the air and landed in Sydney's expertly styled blonde hair. She flinched at the power of his expulsion, his cock tensing in her hands, threatening to blast her again right then and there, but she kept stroking him, slowly, patiently. She worked her hands up his shaft again and an even bigger dollop of pre-cum pushed out the tip to slide down all over her fingers, as she let out a shuddering breath and a small moan.

The heat of it, the feeling… and good lord, the smell… it was more than she'd ever imagined. This young boy's girth made Jonathan look like a child. Another thick drop of his fluids bubbled forth, lubing her hands and allowing her to stroke him more easily. A she grew more relaxed, she began to speed up and soon his entire length and both her palms were coated in his own musky natural lubricant.

Without thinking, Sydney brought one cum-slick hand to her face and shoved it against her nose, breathing deeply to take in the concentrated scent that wafted off his prick. She sniffed hungrily, repeatedly, like a bloodhound on the trail, eyes rolling back at the thick, heady musk.

"Hnnng," she moaned. "Whoa…" She swapped hands and sniffed the other while still stroking him firmly. She shuddered and moaned, feeling almost woozy from the pure, unadulterated scent. She licked her palm shamelessly, tongue slipping between the fingers to dig out traces of the acrid, sweaty, all-consuming odor of his pre-cum. All the while she was jacking him, slowly, insistently, lovingly…

"Unnghhhh," Colter moaned, and she felt his cock swell before firing off three more successive jets of pre-cum –– spluuurtt, sploooorgg, splooooshh — the first arcing over her head, the second lancing into her hair, the third plastering her forehead and dripping down onto her cheeks. She moaned at the feeling of being doused, and at the realization that Colter had already blown a bigger, more powerful load than any man she'd ever been with… and it was just his pre-cum!

As she watched this perfect boy squirm and whimper under her ministrations, she shuddered with pleasure and felt her soaking wet pussy clench repeatedly as she was overwhelmed with a lust so powerful she felt like crying. She had never had this kind of reaction to sex before, but her head was swimming in the sensations — the salty sweet joy of his taste and scent, the forbidden taboo of putting her hands on a minor… the absurd and obscene size of his godlike shota cock.

She smiled up at him, gently grasping his cock and milking it up and down, her slick, lubed-up fingers sliding over his slippery cock shaft. Neither of them spoke, the soft wet sounds of her jerking mixing with he sound of their low, hushed breathing filling the small dressing room.

He tensed again and Sydney withdrew, watching his cock shudder and jerk under its own power before spurting again, drawing a sick white zig-zag line across the bare skin of her bikini-clad tits. She noticed the pre-ejaculations were becoming more powerful, and his pre-cum was getting milkier, tinged with more of his sperm, his true climax still approaching like a distant but powerful locomotive, inevitable and inexorable.

She cooed as he spurted another enormous jet of pre-cum all over her neck and down into her cleavage, then went back to milking his turgid, angry-looking prick. His heavy balls drew up against the base of his cock and swelled visibly before her eyes, burbling audibly, clearly aching for release. His cockhead grew darker in hue, expanding and spreading the thick, pulpy foreskin encircling it. Colter grunted and humped into her hands reflexively as she pulled that foreskin back, exposing his huge, engorged, bulbous tip.

This time she didn't just let it shoot — she stopped milking but grasped his shaft and aimed it down until it was pointed directly at her mouth. Then she opened wide, extending her tongue and looking directly into Colter's eyes. He hissed with lust, tiny fists clenched at his side, nodding, then his hips lifted and he pissed a long, powerful ribbon of pre-cum directly into the actress' willing mouth. Then another, and another, and another.

Sydney's eyes rolled back in her head and she shuddered with pleasure as the boy's blasts of pre-cum splattered over her tongue, into her mouth. The salty flavor was so much more intense than her first small taste. Now he was flooding her mouth directly with his prodigious, gushing pre-cum loads. She started to see bright spots at the edge of her vision as her pulse quickened and her pussy ached. She felt such a strong lustful hunger in that moment that it actually frightened her a bit. When he gifted her one final jet, she felt like she might faint.

His balls were twitching and gurgling loudly as he watched Sydney moan happily, her mouth full of cloudy pre-spunk. She rolled her tongue around the pool of viscous, creamy ball juice and her eyes were half-lidded as she obviously savored the taste of it all. She gargled the thick, potent pre-load, unwilling to swallow… demonstrating her adoration for him in the most debased and whorish way possible.

Suddenly her eyes grew wide as she felt his cock stir again and expand, stretching her fingers wide around it, until it felt like she was gripping a football, or a pool noodle. His balls gurgled, an ominous and alien sound, and then she felt something moving up his shaft from within, vibrating against her fingers. Her thumbs were on the underside of his cock and she felt his cum tube inflate, something thick and clumpy moving up his shaft like a blockage through a sewer pipe.

Sydney watched his cum slit open wide, and he moaned loudly as a jelly-thick, almost solid worm of luminous white sperm extruded out in a leisurely, constant flow. She dipped her head underneath his cockhead, lips wide, careful not to spill a drop of the festering reservoir of pre-cum in her mouth. His cock pumped slowly as the worm extended further and further, dangling down until it touched her tongue and started coiling up on it, like an island in the pool of liquid pre-spunk already filling her gaping mouth.

She moaned loudly, incapable of forming or articulating coherent thoughts as she was filled with sensations she'd never known before. Tasting and feeling his pre-cum squirt directly onto her tongue had made her feel high, like her first taste of some powerful new drug. But this… this was a whole other level. Feeling that thick coagulated cord of pure fucking sperm coil up on her tongue, tasting the tangy flavor of his concentrated ball jelly, smelling the pungent aroma of it, all of this gave her such an intense rush of pleasure and euphoria she felt like she might pass out on the spot.

Colter looked down at the angelic actress, her mouth wide open, her tongue mostly submerged in a pool of his pre-cum and sperm, his thick, coagulated cum worm floating on top of it, draped over her tongue… She was looking at him with an expression of awe and reverence as she wriggled her tongue around then closed her mouth at last. He smiled, eyes alight with power and triumph, as he saw her chewing on the thick, gelatinous sperm rope, his first issue, the backed-up ball juice rich with his shota spunk. Her eyes fluttered as she bit into it, releasing a burst of salty flavor that had been brewing inside his nutsack for god knows how long. With each bite she felt a fresh wave of lustful hunger wash over her body and she chewed loudly, humming and grunting, like a hog at the trough, a slovenly, disgraceful whore. It took three arduous gulps to get down that heady mix of pre-cum and gummy-thick cum jelly, her graceful neck straining to swallow it all.

"Unnnnnhh fuckkk," she said at last, when her mouth was finally empty. "Your cum tastes so fucking good, Colter…"

She whimpered at how perverted this all was, looking confused and frightened at her own behavior. The boy pitied her, knowing she couldn't yet comprehend the turn her life was about to take. He reached out and stroked the side of her beautiful face, his cock still hovering above her, quaking like an active volcano, ready to burst.

"You did good, Syd," he assured her. "But I'm not done. My balls… they still ache. When I really cum… it's a lot more than all that."

"Ooouuhhh, my god…" she murmured, eyes rolling back at the thought of more, more, more. "You really are… a special boy…"

She squeezed her thighs together, her pussy and bikini bottoms now completely drenched in her cunt juices. She nearly came right then and there… but she knew she needed nothing more in that moment than to milk out the rest of Colter's load and see just how much he could shoot for her.

She reached out and took hold of his cock again, hefting it with both her hands until it aimed at her face, slowly milking while she held eye contact with Colter. She felt his cock throb and it spurted another big rope of pre-cum, and she opened her mouth wide instinctually, catching it in the back of her throat and tilting her head back to swallow in one gulp. She felt in sync with him now, their lusts and desires aligning to become one.

"Ummmuuuuu," she moaned dumbly as the smell of his pre-spunk flooded her sinuses and dopamine flooded her brain.

"Tell me about your fiancé now," Colter said through gritted teeth. "Tell me what a good man he is."

"I thought he was a man," Sydney whined, "But you… make him look… like a little bitch!"

She was jerking more confidently now… faster… faster…

"You love him, huh?" Colter sneered.

"Mmmmmm," she couldn't answer. "I love… I love…"

"Go on," he taunted her.

"I love… the way your cock and balls smell… I love the way your cum tasted when you shot it in my mouth…"

"That's it," he said, grinning manically. "Now you get it…"

"I can't wait for you to gush a load of pure fucking boy cum for me… I wanna watch you fucking shoot… I wanna see how much you can blast from those big fucking shota balls of yours…"

She was saying filthy things, sick things, while she tugged and milked this little boy's big, fat, slippery, lubed-up monster cock. He bucked his hips and humped into her hands as she begged him for his cum load. It was al too much, and he felt himself approaching the point of no return.

"You're gonna get it, bitch," he hissed. "I'm gonna give you what you fucking deserve, you slut…"

"Yessss," she said mindlessly, her eyes blank, immersed in the action of stroking and jerking his unholy cock. "I deserve it… I'm a slut… a kiddie-loving pedo whore… I'm so fucked up… Oh, god…"

She tugged him off harder now, aiming his fat fucking knob directly at her pretty, world-famous face.

"Go on, baby… unload those big bloated balls! Fucking dump your load all over me! Show me how much you can shoot! I want it all! Cum for me, Colter! Do it!"

The boy moaned and craned his head back. His enormous horsecock swelled in her hands again, and she saw his heavy nuts draw up close to his body, gurgling louder than ever. This was it. This was what she had been waiting for.

She pulled back his foreskin, revealing his big, fat knob in full… flecked with deposits of smegma and rancid cock filth… and she started pumping him, back and forth, hard… Just the three or four inches of meat right behind the flared tip of his glans, where she knew he would be most sensitive. His already swollen cockhead engorged further, blushing an angry red-violet, then his cum slit opened and it began.

First, a thick, coagulated cum worm much like the first one began to extrude, but it was quickly pushed aside by the built-up load rushing up from the root of his prick right behind it, and the whole mess exploded with the force of a garden sprinkler and blasted over Sydney's waiting face in a heavy splatter-pattern that rocked her head back as if she'd been punched by a heavyweight boxer.

Another cum worm was right behind it, billowing out in a finger-thick plume that caught her full in the face before looping up, over her head, onto the carpet and wall behind her. It was so thick it hit the wall and stuck there like paste, not even dripping down, even under the substantial drag of its own weight. The familiar smell of potent sperm jelly wafted into Sydney's nostrils and she moaned at the intoxicating scent.

As soon as the tail of this second jelly worm burst out of his dickhole, he gushed a powerful and prolonged beam of pure, gooey semen so hard that some of it splashed back off Sydney's face and onto her tits, her hair, her stroking hands. Colter moaned as one spurt melted into the next, a series of firehose torrents, each longer than the last. Another, another, another until Sydney's face was an unrecognizable mask of goopy, jelly-thick cum trails, her eyelids plastered shut, her mouth a latticework of cum strands and dripping discharge.

But he wasn't finished… not even close. Each gush of semen, each mighty rope, lasted about ten seconds apiece. It was as if he was pissing sperm directly onto her, and Sydney could only kneel, transfixed in awe, and receive it. The sounds of his powerful sperm blasts echoed off the walls as she continued to blindly milk his shaft: Splluuuooorrrtt!! Spluuuuuurrrshhh!! Spluuuoorrrggggt! Skuuuuuuushhh!!

She murmured something unintelligible through her cum-glazed facemask, a series of dumb-sounding moans and gurgles. The floor behind her was painted in arcs and splatters of the cum that had missed her face, easily a quart of fluid or more staining the carpet, walls and furniture.

He grimaced and hitched, dispatching a couple of shorter, thicker spurts, making wet, sputtering noises as the chunky, gummy sperm wads ejected from his cock like bullets. She moaned absently and pulled his cock down, letting his next prolonged beam of piping-hot semen paint her titties and fill her cleavage.

"Fuuhhhh… Feed me…" she moaned, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. His cock pulsed and he pissed a chunky, semi-solid blast of boy sperm into her hungry mouth. It filled her to overflowing swiftly and the tail end of the rope looped out crazily over her lips, down her chin, up her nostrils.

After a solid two minutes of ejaculation, Colter's cock throbbed less and less and the jets became weaker and weaker. Sydney turned her face from side to side to let him nut over it fully, coating her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, unloading as fully as he possibly could. Her entire face was so completely coated in a pure mask of sperm jelly that not an inch of her skin could be seen. Her open mouth was so flooded with it that it was filled all the way to the brim and still pouring out. Her hair was plastered and matted with sperm, and it dangled off her chin in long, drooping cords and ropes, sinking to her huge tits below and staining her lacy, burgundy bikini. Dollops of sperm oozed and plopped audibly off her face down onto her chest and cleavage, the only sound in the silent afterglow of Colter's unholy climax.

The boy shuddered as he oozed out another dribbling emission of semen that splattered between Sydney's famous tits. He wasn't shooting ropes now so much as leaking a constant flow of backed-up nut. Sydney gurgled through a mouthful of sperm and gripped the base of his cock, placing her thumbs on the underside to pinch his bulging cum tube, and drew them up the length of his shaft. He moaned as she managed to milk out another thick, globby ejection of chowdery boy cream into her overfull mouth. Sperm wads splattered over her lips, her chin, her tits.

She released Colter's cock at last and slumped back a little, resting on her knees and panting, cum continually dripping down over her perfect body in an unending cascade… Rivulets running down over her ribcage and toned stomach… Droplets dappling her sun-kissed thighs… Long streaks running from her shoulders down her arms… Her cleavage, flooded like a creek in a thunderstorm, overstuffed with near-solid deposits of heavy boy cream.

"That was… good," Colter said, smirking.

Sydney didn't say anything, because her mouth was so utterly stuffed full of hot, tangy boy custard. She slowly and carefully closed her lips around it, unable to hold it all — a bead of sperm jelly bursting out from between her pursed pink lips and falling wetly to her tits. She sloshed his cement-thick cumload around in her mouth, rolling her tongue around in it, savoring the delicious flavor produced by his over-productive, under-age balls. Then she started chewing on the thicker jelly wads, sucking in a breath through her nose that also pulled in more huge globs of sperm up into her sinuses, clogging and coating them in his spunk. She let out a moaning breath as she savored the powerful and intoxicating flavors and textures for a few more moments, then started swallowing in big, audible gulps. Colter watched, pleased, as he saw her throat muscles bulging and undulating with each difficult swallow. Sydney took breaks to moan from pleasure between swallows, and it took five big gulps to get it all down.

Then he watched as she opened her mouth, extended her tongue and started scooping handfuls of his sperm jelly from her face into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed these as well, with the thoughtful, diligent enjoyment of a convict savoring his last meal. She gulped down more and more, shoveling handfuls into her hungry mouth until she had scooped up as much as she could. Finally she reached up to her sperm-pasted eyes and carefully scooped the huge jelly wads from her eyelids and sucked them off her sperm-coated fingers, moaning and sliding her tongue between her digits to lick up as much as possible.

Once she had swallowed down all she could gather with her hands, she opened her eyes to look up at Colter, and he saw a new emotion on her face — the unquestioning adoration of a newly converted shota slut. She might not realize it yet, she wouldn't want to accept it, but there was no question in his mind that Sydney belonged to him now. Hundreds of women had come before her, had endured this selfsame baptism, and he recognized that look. His sperm still clung to her face in thick wads, some cords still laid across her forehead, even one dangling down over her left eye. But the expression on her face was one of pure reverence.

"T-thank you," Sydney said in a phlegmy, sperm-clogged voice. "Thank you for using my face and mouth as your personal cum dumpster… You shoot… h-holy shit… you shoot so fucking much… I don't believe it…"

As if to answer her, Colter's cock flexed and drooled a long, shimmering cum worm that plopped down between her bikini-clad tits. Immediately, she began scooping up the zig-zagging lines of cum decorating her massive breasts and feeding it into her mouth, like a starving woman.

"You get it now, don't you?" Colter said quietly, watching the beautiful 25-year-old woman feast on his sperm. "You understand."

Sydney paused, looking up at the maniacal little boy sitting triumphant, his cock still at half-mast after delivering the most inhuman, insane cum facial of her entire life. She felt disgraced, tainted by him, by his childlike lust. But she had to admit that he had won. He had taken a beautiful young actress and transformed her into a pedophile slut, a boy-fucking bitch. It was hard to believe there was any coming back from this. This act would mark her forever as a deviant, a pervert… If even a hint of this ever came out, it would ruin her. Her life would be over. She thought of Jonathan.

"We said… just this one time," Sydney said at last, breathing steadily. "Just this once. And you'll delete the photos."

Colter looked disappointed, and with a tsk he hopped up off the bench. He held his softening cock out and smacked Sydney's cheeks playfully with it a few times. She let him do it, whimpering quietly, and then watched as he began to tuck his tool back into his pants.

"I'm not deleting shit," he said, stepping around her and walking toward the door. "You dumb fucking bitch."

"W-what?" She nearly shrieked, turning awkwardly on her knees to follow him. She tried to stand up, but her legs were wobbly and the floor was slick with sperm. She slipped and fell pathetically into the tangled wads and cum-streaks lining the floor with a wet splat. She looked an absolute mess, a far sight from the glamorous, beautiful starlet who walked into the Emmys afterparty in her baby blue gown not 24 hours beforehand. She lay on her full, cum-stuffed belly, helpless, as Colter reached the door and looked back.

"You said… you said…" she repeated plaintively.

"I said you'd be mine, and I meant it," he replied coldly. "I'll give you some time to think about it. See how you feel without me for a couple days. Then maybe we'll talk."

"No… Colter, wait, please," she said, crawling toward him, smearing herself in more cum.

"Have fun cleaning all this up," he said with a glance around the room. He chuckled, then turned and opened the door and left.

In the profound, empty silence that followed, Sydney could only stare at the closed door and think about how far she had fallen. What a mess her life had become, literally overnight. Tears ran freely down her face, and then she felt a sharp, queasy feeling deep inside her. Her stomach clenched and she remembered how much of his sperm she'd just drunk. She was disgusted with herself…

She hitched and began to vomit pure white arcs of his cum all over the carpet in a violent torrent, throwing up everything she'd just eaten. It boiled up her throat and exploded from between her lips in great, chunky gouts, and the disgraced actress was helpless to stop it. She tried to close her mouth but it only burst from her nostrils, and she collapsed onto her side as the final, shameful display of her total humiliation wracked her. Her body spasmed again and again as she belched up massive cumloads until her head was surrounded by a thick puddle of regurgitated spunk, and when she was done she simply lay in it, drained, too weak to move, coughing, sputtering, and crying.

To Be Continued...